


Ride

by deltachye



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Other, Reader-Insert, Romantic Comedy, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 10:06:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11666946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltachye/pseuds/deltachye
Summary: [reader x poe dameron]He was one the galaxy’s best pilots, and damn did you want to take a ride.





	Ride

**Author's Note:**

> It is never too late to write a thirst fic. Never.

* * *

 

Poe Dameron was hot.

There was no euphemistic way to say it. Since many of the inhabitants of the Resistance base had too many legs or slimy tentacles for mouths, you had few people of the same species as you to thirst after. You weren’t saying that you’d never date a Wookiee, but… it’d take a lot of getting-to-know. Dameron was your guilty pleasure eye candy. He was a successful member of the Resistance, a charismatic guy, and had a hell of a bulge. Not that you’d know, of course.

But you knew that Dameron was way out of your damn league.

What was to be expected? You were a pathetic maintenance chick, and he was off flying ships in life-or-death battles to save the galaxy. The most you ever did for the Resistance was restart a faulty Starfighter by turning it off and back on again. Sometimes, you mopped the floors. Hoorah for you. A real hero of the ages! You highly doubted that he even knew you _existed_ , much less your name, so there was really no hope to it.

But maybe the universe had different plans for you, in the form of a crackly PA speaker.

_“[Name] [Surname] to loading bay one… [Name] [Surname] to loading bay one…”_

You swore. Since little ever happened on your shifts, you’d taken a leisurely break time, going back to your dorm room to take a shower. Clumsily, you fell into the closest pair of clothes you could find, and ran as fast as your out-of-shape sedentary self could run to the loading bay that was on the other side of the base.

Ten minutes had probably passed at your blazing speed of fifteen kilometres an hour. The pneumatic doors hissed open as you shakily pressed your ID to the scanner, and you wobbled along, wheezing from the lengthy sprint. You were already lightheaded, so it did not help you much when your eyes met with the guy you’d been staring at the ass of for so long. You practically fainted as _Poe Dameron_ of all people grinned at you. You gracelessly tripped on your boot lace, barely catching yourself on the corner of a crate.

“[Name]?” he asked, getting up to his feet hurriedly as you steadied yourself. He had a smear of oil on his chin, and took dirty gloves off of his hands to extend one. “Poe Dameron. I paged you.”

“…right.” You realized that you were supposed to shake his hand and hastily shot out to grab it, wincing at your own stiff awkwardness. He shook your hand with a strong grip that about flung you out the door. You mentally apologized for your sweaty hands and tried to pretend that you weren’t being weird for feeling so overjoyed over a handshake. Your heart was trying to choke you out, but you fought it, swallowing thickly.

“What did you need me for?” you asked, trying to suck in the hacking coughs that came from being so out of breath. Luckily, he didn’t notice, perking up at the question. He gestured back towards his ship, which was parked.

“She needs a fuel change. The hyperdrive’s also been a bit wonky, and I didn’t want to play with it in case I screwed something up.”

The greatest pilot in the Resistance was putting his ship in _your_ hands?! You had half a mind to tell him to find somebody more competent, but he’d already started walking away to lead you aboard. If there was anything worse than your insecurity, it was the thought of inconveniencing somebody. You muttered another curse word under your breath and followed, sticking your hands deep into your pockets to control their shakiness. A hyperdrive was nothing. You’d fixed worse. Right?

X-Wings seated a pilot and a pilot only. Dameron wasn’t a small person by any means, and the space was cramped to high heaven. Cramped enough for you to be able to press your nose to the back of his neck if you just leant forwards a centimeter. You cringed at yourself for even thinking something as creepy as that. _Focus, dammit!_

“See, if I flip the switch here…” He pressed a couple of buttons, each one clicking in the cockpit as the ship hummed up to life. “This warning pops up. I’m not quite sure what it means. It’s new.”

Greedily, you snapped your gaze to the window screen. Maybe working would take your mind off of the heat you could feel radiating off of his broad shoulders. You squinted, but nodded quickly once your eyes caught on it. It was a yellow box with a warning code that you recognized. You’d seen this on one of the other X-Wings you’d worked on before.

“It’s not hard to fix. I just need to adjust a couple inputs and you should be good to fly again.”

Relieved in that you’d fixed this successfully before, you were then struck by a flash of dread when you realized that you’d have to ask him to get out of the pilot’s seat. You, ask a star _hero_ to let _you_ sit pilot in _his_ ship? Alternatively, you could’ve just sat in his lap—

_Focus, dammit!_

“Just let me know what you need,” he said agreeably. You tried to plaster a smile on your face before he turned around to see your disgustedly horrified grimaces. You were about to formulate a proper sentence like “if you would excuse me, sir, I need to see the control board for a minute”, but instead you thought:

_“You know what I need? I need a good dicking.”_

“I—uh—wow!” you blurted out, physically recoiling after thinking such a lewd, crude, and rude thing. “Th-this ship is really small. And hot. Really, um… ah, m-maybe I’ll go refuel your ship b-before doing any fixing with the. Uh. Yeah, the hyperd-drive. Excuse me.”

A mess! You were a huge mess! A huge, stupid, flaming hot mess! You deserved death! You knew your face was some ugly sort of patchy red, and you were so close to scurrying out to shameful freedom before he reached back, grabbing your sleeve. You froze.

“You okay?” he asked, sounding genuinely concerned and bewildered at your suddenly strange behaviour. Of course he would; he was a genuinely nice guy. Unlike your nasty, disgusting gremlin of a self, thinking dirty thoughts like this from a guy you’d just met…

“Fine!” you squeaked. “I just… uh, nevermind.” You shook your head, not wanting to dig yourself an even bigger hole than the one you were currently tap-dancing away in. You wished furiously for the loading dock doors to open and suck you out into deep space so that you wouldn’t have to look into his honey brown eyes again. You pulled on your arm, but to your despair, his grip only tightened. You snuck a glance to his face, and caught the motion of him biting onto his lower lip.

“You know… these windows have a mirror function. Nobody can see in.”

“Wh… what?” Of course you knew that—you’d have to in order to be a competent mechanic. You swallowed thickly, trying to put your mind on a track that didn’t lead to you taking off your clothes. Which you weren’t thinking about at all, of course. Your wet hair was plastered to your hot face as you made a weak attempt to control your breathing. Was it getting steamy, or was that just your imagination?

“Is it broken, or something? Because I can fix that if—”

“It’s not broken,” he said quietly, tilting his head slightly. His grin was crooked when you looked down at him like this. He pulled, and you easily fell forwards, just barely catching yourself with the other hand on the back of his seat. You held your breath, feeling his wash over your neck warmly. You could see each strand of his dark curly hair.

“It’s perfectly functional. If you catch my drift.”

Needless to say, the hyperdrive did not get fixed until much, much later.

**Author's Note:**

> Read this elsewhere: https://goo.gl/ZcQpS1


End file.
